After leaving Delcie at the hospital to monitor Mary’s condition, we took a taxi back to the House. On the way Charles seemed a different person, almost approachable. He said the same about me, and we both guffawed, although we refrained from slapping each other’s back. As far as Mary was concerned we were united in defending our corner — “standing up for our civil liberties”, Charles said.He even asked about Eko, and when I mentioned Eko’s duties at the guesthouse in Lampu’uk, he suggested that the young man (his words) could be gainfully employed here, now that Hannah wasn’t returning.‘Hannah? What happened?’Charles opened out his hands. ‘To put it bluntly, Delcie caught me with my pants down, fired Hannah, and I thought it best to go AWOL for a while.’ He saw my look of disbelief and added, ‘yes, my behaviour—unfitting for an officer and a gentleman, but I made it up to Hannah, and I hope to do the same for Delcie.’‘She’s still my wife,’ I said, ‘even though we’ve grown apart.’Charles nodded. ‘Richard that’s something…’ but I held up my hand. I didn’t much care what the two of them got up to, as long as they didn’t flaunt it my face like that bloody Donaldson. And I told him so.Charles nodded again. We had reached an understanding.The taxi stalled in a traffic jam, giving us an opportunity to relate our adventures. His, quite amusing, especially his run in with a Russian gangster, which seemed on par with my brush with a secret agent. I’m sure we both embellished our stories, and by the time we finally arrived at the House we were talked-out but more at ease in each other’s company.An hour or so later, after we had both showered and in dressing gowns, we settled down in the lounge to wait for Delcie. Charles, seated at the table, riffled a pack of cards, and I flopped on the sofa with my Tolstoy book.‘Give it an hour,’ Charles said, ‘then I’m off to bed.’‘And me,’ I said, flicking over a page. ‘Truth is, I might turn-in sooner. Just thinking about Mary wears me out, let alone Jane’s funeral and Junior’s future. And her paternity threat. Bloody witch.’Charles stopped playing his game. Tapped his fingers on the table, turned to me. ‘Did you..?’He left the question hanging. I put down my book, and rubbed my eyes. ‘So we’re clear, whatever insinuations Mary makes, I am positive Jamie was Jane’s father. We were pretty close back then, and even though he was starting a course of chemotherapy he told me he still had as many tadpoles as a sperm whale.’‘So did I,’ said Charles, somewhat wistfully, I thought. ‘And her implication includes you, doesn’t it?’I shook my head. ‘Fertile imagination, Charles. She’s desperate to lumber one of us for her future upkeep.’‘So you never..?’Another dangling question, which I swatted. ‘I’m not Jane’s father, Charles.’Silence from him. After a few moments he nodded, and turned back to his card game, our earlier bonhomie dissipated. I doubted we would ever become close, or even friends while we lived together — much less, merely a compromise.As it happened, I didn’t retire early. Either I became engrossed in my book or Delcie returned sooner than I expected. When she sidled into the lounge coughing, I blinked. She looked like she’d been through a mince-making machine; clothes creased, hair straggly, and dark circles under her eyes. Charles asked about Mary, which led to a minor skirmish involving Beatriz, Mary recovering, and then him raising the paternity issue — which Delcie avoided by seeking alcoholic salvation.Much to my surprise, Charles kept his promise of mending fences with her, albeit his grand gesture of rustling up a nightcap had her asking if he was ill.He grinned. ‘As Hannah didn’t come back with me, it’s the least I can do. A sort of peace offering.’‘Oh,’ she said, biting her lip, and settling down at the other end of the sofa. ‘I see.’Clearly she didn’t, and wasn’t about to ask why. But I had no such qualms, so I stuck my oar in. ‘What happened?’He shot me a look that tested our fragile truce, but I met it with a deflecting smile and he backed off.‘All I want to say is that Hannah has gone back to her family, and I’ve returned to mine — that’s if, you both agree to let me stay.’I shrugged, put down my book. ‘I could say the same. Do you both want me here?’Delcie threw up her arms as though chastising a spoilt pair of kindergarten kids. ‘Richard, this is your home until you pop your clogs — and Charles, just get me a large vodka before I pass out.’My phone rang. I dug it out of my dressing gown pocket and looked at the display. It wasn’t Eko, but it had to be Tevfik.Wouldn’t it? I clicked on the call button, said hello, and was reassured when I heard his voice.‘Mr. Richard, I have returned from Lampu’uk. Eko is with me, but he won’t travel to Aceh unless I accompany him.’‘Oh,’ I said, glancing at Charles who was gesturing at me. I shook my head at the offer of a drink, picked up my book and stood up.‘Mr. Richard. Are you still there?’‘Yes, yes. Hold on a minute.’I gestured goodnight to Delcie, shuffled out of the lounge to the stairway, where I paused. ‘Okay,’ I said, as I climbed up. ‘You’re welcome to bring him here.’‘That’s one of the problems,’ he said. ‘My wife is not well. I cannot leave her right now.’Bloody hell. It’s never plain sailing.I reached my bedroom door. ‘Well, I could come and get him,’ I said, as I opened it and stepped inside.‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s more difficult than that.’‘What is?’‘I’m not sure.’‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ I said, ‘just tell me what’s wrong.’I sank down on the bed as he explained. I had to agree it was difficult, and I looked up at the ceiling and prayed for Angelique to visit me.Help me bring Eko home.

The ‘‘boys’’, as Mary would say, walked out of the hospital together. Both had changed. Richard, more composed, and Charles, more concerned. I liked the changes, although I doubted I would want either of them back.Probably.I pushed that thought away, only to be replaced by another. Neither had returned with their young tarts, though. Unless they were waiting at the House.Were they?I pushed that thought away, only to picture Mary on life support. Tubes were piercing her body, her eyes bulging. A giant squid. She held out a tentacle, imploring me to come closer. I closed my eyes, willed away the image.Richard was right. She had overturned our delicate relationship, and extended it to involve Charles as well. But I couldn’t desert her.Could I? No? Yes?No.And that was that. From reception, I walked along the corridor to ICU. Outside the entrance, hands on hips and her eyes hurling daggers at my approaching figure, stood Beatriz.Bugger.I walked up to her, intent on brushing past.‘You’re not allowed in here,’ she said, her mouth pouting like a spoiled brat. ‘Mr Donaldson’s orders.’ She pointed at a dilapidated wooden bench lurking in the corridor under a wall picture of the President. ‘You can wait there.’I shook my head. ‘No thanks. When can I talk to him?’She shrugged. Tossed her head aside, preferring to look at the President than me.Bitch.I stood my ground, clenched my fists, and started to count. At ten, the frustration passed — perhaps I should have followed the “boys” after all. I made up my mind to do exactly that; it was evening, and if Charles had brought Hannah with him, I wanted to lay down my new Manor rules before they retired for the night.But as I began to retrace my steps, I heard a call behind me. A Scottish burr.‘Is that you, Delcie?’Hamish. I stopped and turned. Beatriz had folded her arms, staring at the ceiling.He though, was gesturing to me. ‘Come here. Mary’s been asking for you.’Mary? Asking for me? Good grief. I rushed towards him. ‘I thought she was…was…had a heart attack.’He massaged his brow. Dark smudges around his eyes. ‘Ah, yes. Maybe. We’re still conducting tests, but signs are good.’I followed him into the ward, and up to a curtained off area. He pulled back the curtain. Mary lay on a bed, a thin blanket drawn up to her waist, dressed in a smock. Her face, pale, eyes drawn, and one electronic monitor attached by a cuff to her left arm.What’s that for?She saw me, raised her head a little. ‘Only the good die young,’ she said. Her breaths coming in gasps. ‘Isn’t that right, Hamish?’He glanced at me. A gamut of emotions passed between us, none of which seemed fitting. Lips half-smiling, he moved across to look at the monitor. ‘My new toy,’ he said. ‘Pulse, blood pressure, at the press of a button.So much for the eight-armed, boggled-eyed squid. ‘I thought there’d be…’ I paused, and he guessed my question.‘Scanning equipment, a flat-line monitor set-up…we’re uhmm…working around it.’I raised an eyebrow. He nodded. ‘We have administered appropriate medication. Mary is comfortable.’‘I heard that,’ she said. ‘This mattress is lumpy.’I smiled. With her right hand she was patting down the creases in the blanket as if it would resolve the problem. A couple of chairs were by her bed. I sat in one and took hold of her hand. Squeezed. Tears started to glisten in her eyes.A frown creased her forehead, words wheezed out of her mouth. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’Exactly. I could only guess. ‘First, you’re going to get better.’ A compromise. ‘I’ll call Rod and let him know. Maybe he can help.’‘I don’t…not sure…’ Her eyes closed and Hamish touched me on the shoulder. I turned and he gestured for me to leave.‘She needs all the rest she can get right now,’ he said.And me.He walked with me to reception. I glanced through the entrance. ‘It’s dark outside. Can you rustle up a taxi for me?’He smiled as if hoping for something more. ‘Only that? No dinner, no nightcap?’I smiled back. ‘No,’ I said.He nodded, and despite my misgivings, I felt sorry for him.‘When can I visit again?’He rubbed a hand across his forehead. Looked out for the count. ‘No restrictions for you,’ he said. ‘Anytime that’s convenient.’We walked out of the hospital and he called over a waiting taxi, told the driver my address. I climbed in, but before he shut the door he said, ‘I’m meeting Rod later, I’ll let him know about Mary.’‘Thanks,’ I said.The taxi pulled away.I didn’t look back.

When I opened the front door to the Manor, and walked into the lighted lounge both boys were in their dressing gowns. Charles sat at the table, picking at a deck of cards strewn across it, and Richard lazed in the sofa reading a book. Both seemed comfortable in each other’s presence.Strange. I coughed. Richard blinked. Charles glanced up at me. He spoke.‘Did you get to see her?’‘After a battle with thatwoman—Richard knows who.’‘It’s a woman thing, Charles,’ Richard said in a dead-pan voice, as he flicked a page over. ‘Can’t say I liked the bossy bitch, either.’‘Yes, well, I made it past Beatriz thanks to Hamish. Mary seems to be recovering—even complaining about a lumpy mattress.’Richard grimaced. ‘Humph,’ he said.Charles began to gather up the cards. ‘No doubt,’ he said, ‘next will be the paternity issue.’Oh, oh.Another humph from Richard, and I changed the subject.‘I need a drink. Either of you want a night-cap?’‘My round,’ said Charles, standing up. ‘Leave it to me.’What? I stared at him. ‘You feel ill or something?’He grinned. ‘As Hannah didn’t come back with me, it’s the least I can do. A sort of peace offering.’‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I see,’ although I didn’t, and I wasn’t going to ask why.Or would I?

The knock on Hamish’s door was repeated. He called out “yes, okay”, and I swivelled in my chair to look. The door opened, and in came a bloated woman I hardly recognised.Our eyes met. ‘You’re looking a bit worse for wear,’ she said, her face grimacing. ‘To think I once fancied you.’Sod off.I remained seated. A most discourteous and ungentlemanly behaviour befitting an Army officer. Nevertheless, I slapped my hand on my thigh. ‘Atta girl. Always the life and soul of the party, eh Mary?’‘Don’t patronise me,’ she said, ‘and while we’re on that subject, Charles Fotheringay, I trust Mr. Donaldson has briefed you on my requirements.’Bollocks to that.Hamish coughed. ‘Mary, that’s unmerited. Charles has been very sympathetic and cooperative. I am sure we all want what’s best for you and Junior.’Mary glared at me. ‘He hasn’t got a sympathetic bone in his body. Apathetic is more like it.’I stood up, offered my hand. ‘I won’t say it has been a pleasure to see you again, Mary, but my best wishes for a safe return to the UK.’A choking noise came from her mouth, her eyes glazed over, and she collapsed. Hamish came quickly out of his seat, bent over her, and felt for her pulse. He looked up at me, frowning. ‘Quick, call a nurse.’I’d seen soldiers crumple in the field from stress, and I assumed the same with Mary. I hot-footed it down the corridor to an open ward, burst through, and signalled to a blue-uniformed lady who was addressing a couple of nurses. I tried pigeon-English.‘Help. Mr. Donaldson room. Patient sick.’Blank stares.Bollocks. After several hand-waving exercises worthy of a diploma in semaphore, I succeeded in enticing her to follow me back. Not a moment too soon. By the time we arrived Hamish was giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and I realised Mary’s condition was more serious than a fainting episode.And so it proved.When Mary was whisked away on a stretcher after her breathing steadied, I heard Hamish whisper suspected myocardial infarction.Heart attack.My fault? Surely not?I didn’t think wishing Mary a safe return to Blighty would be enough to bring on heart failure, but I felt guilty enough to wait and see it through.Our session with Hamish was put on indefinite hold, and with nothing better to do I returned to reception to wait for Delcie and Richard to show themselves. A few magazines laying on a side table caught my eye, and I riffled through them. I picked out an English one with an intriguing article on the aftermath of the tsunami, took it to an empty seat by a water dispenser, and sat down to read:-“On Dec. 26, 2004, the massive 9.3-magnitude earthquake hit the Indian Ocean just west of the northern tip of Aceh.The epicenter of the quake was located some 160 kilometres west of Aceh. The tremor sent devastating tsunami waves across the region, reaching as far as Africa’s eastern coast.The tsunami killed some 230,000 people in 14 countries along the rim of the Indian Ocean. Of these, 170,000 were Achenese residents”.Good grief.I wiped a hand across my face, put down the magazine, and filled a cup of water from the dispenser. More people died here than the population of Oxford — or Cambridge — and my Celia, and Angelique, were amongst them. Now Jane, and maybe Mary, were added casualties.I gulped my drink, returned to the magazine, and looked at a picture of a wrecked ship. Underneath was the story:-“The PLTD Apung, an electric generator ship owned by state electric company PLN has become a monument to the tragedy in Banda Aceh. Although the ship weighed 2,600 tons, the torrent forced it nearly three kilometres inland. It now sits in the capital city, a constant remembrance of the tsunami’s power”.Don’t remind me.I closed the magazine. My eyelids felt heavy…

‘…Charles, wake up.’A hand on my shoulder shaking me. I blinked into bright lights, and focused on Delcie bending over me. My mouth felt dry, and my stomach rumbled.‘What’s the time?’Instead of answering she hurled a stream of questions. All sounded accusatory. ‘What are you doing here? What’s happened? Where’s Mary?’‘Hold on,’ I said, rubbing my eyes. ‘Must have dropped off.’Delcie straightened. Behind her, lurked Richard. He looked at his watch.‘Time we found Donaldson,’ he said.I glanced at the wall clock ticking to eight-thirty. The reception area, quiet.‘Not today, you won’t,’ I said. ‘He’s attending to Mary. She’s had a heart attack.’They both stared at me, mouths agape. Delcie recovered first. ‘Heart attack?’I nodded. ‘Lucky I was there. Touch and go for a minute. Mouth to mouth, and all that. And before you ask me the same damn questions, she’s alive and breathing unaided, and Hamish has rushed her off to ICU.’Delcie had a hand covering her mouth, staring at me in disbelief. Richard, blank expression, non-committal. I didn’t blame him, I felt the same. Neither of them spoke, so I made the first move. ‘You can wait here all night if you want, but I’m going back to the House.’‘Good idea,’ said Richard. ‘I’m all-in.’Delcie shuddered. ‘You can’t do that. What if she…she…’‘Kicks the bucket, you mean,’ said Richard. ‘Well, then we’ll only have Junior to worry about.’Delcie gritted her teeth, raised a fist, and punched his arm. I wasn’t sure if it was in anger or in jest.‘Richard. How can you say that?’I stood up ready to go, but Richard turned to her, put both hands on her shoulders, and held her still. He seemed different, somehow, more self-assured. His words struck a chord.‘Delcie, listen to me. We both know that Mary’s been a meddling witch, and we’ve bent over backwards to accommodate her outlandish behaviour and hysterical demands. Naturally, I want her to recover and fly back to England—but I’m not going to shed any tears if she doesn’t pull through.’He took his hands off and left Delcie standing there like a lone sentinel. A few moments passed. Finally, she sniffed, nodded at us.‘You two can go.’‘What about you?’ I said.Delcie brushed a hand across her face. Tears coursed down her cheeks. ‘Mary needs me. I’ll sit with her…hold her hand until…until…whatever.’‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Best you do that.’

For once I agreed with Delcie. Mary was a menace. Making all sorts of accusations, all of them unfounded — but she left me with a nagging thought.…Your faithful wife needs to come clean.Delcie brushed it off, and Mary didn’t pursue it, but I sensed a discord between them, like a scab had been ripped off leaving an open wound.I decided to broach it over dinner.The restaurant was situated close to the hospital — we could have walked it, but Delcie hailed a cab. “My shoes are killing me”, she said. A cool evening, and we sat outside on the empty terrace sharing a mosquito spray. I made liberal use of it just in case any dengue-carrying females were still active. One in twenty, I believed. Or was that malaria?‘Maybe we should sit inside,’ said Delcie, who had relaxed into her chair.I shrugged, couldn’t be bothered. ‘We’re here now.’Small talk.A couple of glasses of white wine later, Delcie opened up.‘About Mary,’ she said.‘About Angelique,’ I responded. ‘And Jane. Who’s been telling me the truth, or is that something alien to you both?’Delcie’s glass was raised to her lips. She didn’t sip at it. Put it back down on the table, folded her arms, and looked at me.I held her gaze. ‘Well?’Her voice was wistful. ‘We were young, made mistakes, but I chose you, Richard. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I remained faithful to you until we lost Angelique to the tsunami and you became a different man to the one I married.’A half-truth?What I wanted to ask, I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to hear the answer, I didn’t want Delcie to lower her head and whisper sorry, because the truth — if it was the truth — would tear me apart.Did I father Angelique?Instead, I compromised. ‘I agree we both made mistakes. God, if I could only turn the clock back I wouldn’t be facing this bloody paternity test.’Somehow the showdown had been averted, and I resolved to never mention it again. Angelique was my daughter and spiritual guide — nothing could change that.The waiter arrived with our meals, and our conversation returned to small talk while we pushed food around our plates. Both of us thinking what was going to happen next?Delcie laid down her knife and fork and looked up. ‘Charles…’His name lingered in the air between us like some malevolent spirit. I sniffed. ‘I can smell his bloody cigar-smoke from here.’Delcie sighed. ‘Can’t you play another tune? We need him, Richard, or we’ll never sort out Mary.’‘Hmm.’‘What’s that mean?’I pointed a finger at her. ‘It means I expect Charles will deny anything and everything relating to Mary’s daughter. And if that’s the case, I’m out of here for good.’‘You can’t do that.’‘Can’t I? Try me.’‘Richard, be sensible for once. Where are you going to go? Some doss-hole with your toy-boy in the middle of nowhere?’‘What?’‘The Manor, Richard. Our compromise. Our reality. And it’s big enough to keep us from bumping into each other every minute of the day.’‘Look, if you ever mention toy-boy again, I’ll…I’ll…oh, fuck it.’Delcie picked up her glass and took a swallow. ‘I knew you’d see it my way. Now be a good boy, keep quiet, and leave Charles to me.’Bloody woman.At the back of my mind I knew she was right. Charles did help us pay our way, and the House was part of me. I hoped Eko would feel the same. I couldn’t envisage settling anywhere else — besides I couldn’t afford it. As she said.The reality. A compromise.While the waiter cleared away the remains of our now-cold dinner I thought more about Eko. Had Tevfik talked to him? I pulled out my phone, switched it on, and looked at the illuminated screen. No missed calls, no messages.Bloody hell.A bout of exhaustion swept through me and I wanted to return to the House and sleep. I rubbed my eyes. ‘Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? Or the next day?’Delcie looked at me, seemed to be pondering the idea. She twisted her head, and glanced outside. I followed her gaze. An overcast evening; the road full of noisy vehicles, and a few locals all dressed in sarongs walked hand in hand past our terrace. A cool breeze lapped at my ankles, and I bent down and massaged them. She murmured something indistinct, as if to herself. Then turned back to me.‘I’d like nothing more, believe me, but what about Junior?’Bloody good question. I wasn’t up for contemplating. ‘I don’t know. And I don’t want you to…’She held up a hand. ‘No, I’m not going to mention it, but if neither of you are Jane’s father we’ll have no say in his future. Would we?’I drummed my fingers on the table top. ‘Good grief, how many more times…do you really want me to accept paternity?’‘Well, no, of course not…’‘Delcie?’She put on a hurt look. ‘You said you’d take care of him, didn’t you?’‘No. I said I’d help find a new home for him. That’s different.’‘At the Manor. You agreed.’I scowled at her. ‘You’re putting words in my mouth. This is getting nowhere, and I’m bloody bushed.’ I put both hands on the table and heaved myself up. ‘I need a breath of fresh air to clear my head if I’m going back to face Mary, Charles, and that bloody Donaldson. Are you coming with me?’Delcie nodded, and I settled the bill.Back to the lions’ den. I prayed — like Daniel — I would escape intact.

Katherine pointed a finger at me, tossed her head and snarled. The nail was cracked and chewed. She spat out the words.‘If you divorce me, I’ll kill you. And her.’That was weeks ago, and D I Johns stared at the mantelpiece where wedding photos of my beloved took pride of place, he sometimes glancing at me, then his notes, pen poised.‘You reported her missing, Mr. Drake.’ He looked up. ‘Three days after a tiff…your words…about a certain…’ he studied his notes…‘Elle McBride.’ His lips formed a thin smile. ‘A friend of yours, you said.’Outside, two plods were digging up my newly-laid flowerbed. I sighed. Ignored my protestations. All they would – could find – was her wedding ring. The one she hurled at me as she stormed out, and her one-fingered insult.‘Fuck you, Stephen, and your friggin’ wedding ring. Stick it up your tramp’s arse.’I was shaking my head when she slammed the door. Now it was secreted. Like her…‘Mr. Drake?’‘Yes’, I said. ‘It was nothing serious. I’m sure Ms. McBride can confirm that.’D I Johns grimaced. ‘What wasn’t serious? The altercation – sorry, tiff – or your relationship with Elle McBride? Platonic, you said.’He had me there. On both counts. And that’s why his team were desecrating my patch. Wrong place, but hey there - a little misdirection...‘Stephen,’ Elle had said. ‘We’re in it together. Your teeny-weeny duckling. She hugged me, giggled in the moonlight, showing me her finger. ‘Until death do us part.’Katherine, her canvas sack weighed down by a handful of bricks, embraced pond life. A fitting end, hours away.Job done.I nodded. D I Jones looked disappointed. Maybe he expected more from me. He produced a dirtied ring. In a bag marked Exhibit A. ‘We found this earlier. Forensics tell me there’s DNA on it. Distinct samples. X and Y chromosomes. One male, two females.’Ugh. I knew Elle shouldn’t have worn it. Show-off. That’s why I retrieved it from her, and slipped it under the bridal roses. White ones.Too clever by half.Fuck you, Katherine.

‘I think your faithful wife needs to come clean.’ Mary’s outburst at Richard stunned us both into silence. My mind latched onto that one word. Faithful. My long-held secret was about to be exposed. How could she?Richard’s face went pale and then reddened; He struck a fist on Hamish’s desktop. ‘What the hell does that mean?’Oh no, Richard, please.Hamish raised a hand, cleared his throat, and Mary’s phone rang.Saved.Mary dug it out and looked at the screen before answering. ‘Where the fuck are you, you selfish bastard?’ She glared at us. ‘Don’t you realise I’m fighting a war here.’Richard stood up. ‘Now wait a minute...’Mary waved him to sit back down, her voice quietened. ‘So you’re back, then?’Richard still stood, his face still red. Mary listened for a few moments, then said. ‘Hang on a moment.’She turned to us. ‘It’s Charles.’Richard clenched his fist. ‘What the hell you mean about fighting a war?’I stood up as well. ‘For Christ’s sake, Mary. Calm down. We’re trying to lay Jane to rest.’Hamish joined the party. ‘Who’s Charles?’Mary turned to him. ‘He’s Delcie’s cousin. And someone who could help me sort out this mess, once and for all.’Richard snorted. ‘I suppose he’s also on your paternity list?’‘That surprise you, Mr. Know-it-all?’‘Mary,’ I said. ‘That’s enough, or I’m leaving.’‘And me,’ echoed Richard, though he didn’t move.The room fell silent until Hamish intervened. ‘I suggest we ask Charles to join us.’Mary nodded. ‘All agree?’Richard shrugged. I said yes.While Mary was speaking to Charles and giving him instructions, I took advantage of Richard’s vulnerability. ‘She’s not herself,’ I said. ‘Too many things on her mind.’He stared at me. ‘What did she mean about you? And Angelique?’I sighed, patted his arm as if it was nothing. ‘Stirring up trouble, that’s all.’It wasn’t all. And maybe one day I’d tell him the truth. As far as Mary went, she could only guess. Both Richard and Charles were suitors of mine. Same as her — we had several admirers fawning around us — although she thrived on airing her beaus in public.I didn’t. Not all of them.We both sat down. ‘And if Charles is on her paternity list, it shows she is as much in the dark as us.’Richard nodded, pointed at Hamish. ‘I want this whole thing sorted, Donaldson. Both of us should take the bloody test and be done with it.’I didn’t push it.‘Okay, he’ll be here soon,’ said Mary, addressing Hamish. ‘Now about my grandson. What’s going to happen to him?’Whew. The paternity subject had been brushed aside.Hamish coughed, picked up a file, and read from it. ‘Junior—we’ve called him that—is making progress, but he’ll need specialist care for a few more weeks. Before I leave, I suggest we transfer him to Jakarta.’‘Specialist treatment? Jakarta?’ Mary clutched her throat. ‘Who’s going to pay for that?’Uh. Oh. Here we go again. My time had come. ‘Rod said he’d fund the trip.’Mary stared at me. ‘You’ve been talking to Rod? When?’I stared back. ‘All you care about is money. Well let me tell you a few facts of life, Lady High-and-Mighty Parrington. I care about Junior. And so does Rod.’ While Mary spluttered, I thrust home my advantage. ‘If you want your grandson off your hands, we’re find a caring home for him—even if he stays with me at the Manor.’‘I’ll second that,’ said Richard, surprising me. ‘You’ve done nothing but plant spurious seeds since you arrived. The quicker you bugger off back to England, the better.’Mary’s face quivered, and she buried her head in her hands. ‘I hate you. You’re both so beastly to me.’Hamish got out of his chair, walked around to Mary, and put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at us. ‘Have we finished?’Mary started to sob. I was half-inclined to comfort her, but she’d tried my patience and found me wanting. I nodded to Hamish. ‘I think we all know where we stand.’Right, I need to write some notes. Can you take a break, and we’ll reconvene when Charles arrives?’I hadn’t finished. ‘And the paternity tests? Charles can be stubborn when his integrity is questioned. Would you try to gain his agreement before a real war breaks out?’‘He’d better,’ said Richard, ‘or else he’ll have me to deal with…’‘And me,’ said Mary.Hamish gestured to the door. ‘Please, I don’t want any more arguments. He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll send someone to find you after I’ve briefed Charles.’Dismissed.Outside in the corridor, I suggested we took an early dinner. I was tired, it had been a long day, and they both looked whacked out.‘Good idea,’ said Richard. ‘Where to?’‘Count me out,’ said Mary, ‘I don’t want you ganging up on me again.’I looked at her, caught hold of Richard’s arm. ‘Come with me. There’s a really nice place close by.’ I smiled. ‘Ideal for plotting.’ At long last, I felt most of my demons fade away. I’d stood up to Mary, and found a new direction.Junior.

Author

Bio: British age 74 (young) retired and living in Thailand. Profession, Charity Auditor working in some 40 countries over the last ten years before retiring. Familiar with writing reports to professional standard. Sense of humour, reserved, realist and down to earth. Enjoy writing with a passion for the unusual.Genre: Fiction crime Email: stephenterry747@hotmail.comPhone: 0066823250835 Thailand